Devouring Messiah
by Mislagnissa
Summary: The First Contact War rages on, some even calling it the "End War." Protoss, zerg, and UED forces invade the Confederate colonies. Under the auspice of Project Bellwood, Doctor Sandra Loew clones a zerg/human hybrid in an attempt to fight fire with fire. Unfortunately for them, purity of essence cannot be tamed.
1. Chapter 1

**Copyright credits:** Some text reproduced and/or altered from _StarCraft II: Heart of the Swarm_ by Chris Metzen and Brian Kindregan.

**Lore references:** Doctor Sandra Loew originally appeared in the short story "The Teacher." Cerberus Program originally appeared in the demo campaign _StarCraft: Loomings_ and the BlizzCon 2019 War Chest.

**Formatting:** Guillemets or angle quotes («») indicate telepathic dialogue.

* * *

Bright lights. Grey floors. Warmth. Safety. Hunger. These were the first sensations I remember experiencing. That and a strange tightness around my throat. A steady, barely noticeable pulse traced it.

"Subject appears to be gaining awareness. No apparent distress from psi-collar."

I heard noises. I understood patterns in them. I knew words. I knew meaning.

My several pairs of eyes focused. I glanced around my surroundings. The floor was grey, metallic. A mat of writhing pale pinkish sludge stretched across it in uneven patches. There was a mound in the middle of the room. A large violet spike rose from the mound. I felt pulses coming off it.

I experimentally wiggled. I could feel my body, long and segmented. I raised several pairs of limbs. I rose from the ground slightly before falling back in a heap. I tried again. I rose to my feet, my new limbs trembling.

I looked around again. I had a head with a neck. It was flexible and moved to let me see around myself. The walls were a metallic grey. I was in some kind of chamber. High above, I could see the wall was colorful. It moved as I watched. I realized I was mistaken. The wall was not moving. Something was moving behind it. The wall was see-through.

I heard another voice. This one did not come from the noises around me. It came from somewhere else. Yet there was nowhere else.

«Awaken my child, and embrace the glory that is your birthright. Know that I am the Overmind, the eternal will of the Swarm, and that you have been created to serve me.»

Comprehension came slower this time. I felt warmed by the depths of these words.

I tried to make my own words. I warbled. I tried again. More warbling. I kept trying.

«Where am I? Who are you?» I finally asked.

I received no further response. I waited.

"Hello, Dennis. How are you?"

«Who?»

"Up here."

I looked up at the see-through wall. I saw a shape there. A figure with a head, arms, and legs. It was waving one of its arms.

"I see you."

The figure was speaking to me.

«What is Dennis?»

"Your name is Dennis. My name is Doctor Sandra Loew, but you may call me Sandra."

«Dennis? I am Dennis?»

"Yes."

«You are Sandra?»

"Yes. Excellent Dennis!"

I heard tapping noises. There was no discernible pattern in them. I ignored them.

«What is Sandra?»

"I guess I'm your mother. Do you understand?"

Mother. I puzzled over the strange new word.

«I think so. You are my mother?»

If my mother was there, then who was the other?

«Tell them nothing! Only you can hear me. The terrans cannot be trusted. They are your jailors! I will tell you all... when you rejoin the Swarm.»

Terrans? Jailors? Swarm?

Yes… I understood now. "Mother" was a terran. The terrans were my enemies.

"Dennis?"

«Yes, mother?»

I was at the mercy of my enemies. Yet they did not know they were my enemies. Did they? Why else would Sandra lie to me, claim to be my mother? They thought to deceive me. I would have to play along for now. I would bide my time and wait until an opportunity to escape presented itself.

I would learn from these terrans. They would not realize my ruse until it was too late.

* * *

I could scarcely track the passage of time. Days, weeks, months. It meant little to me in this grey lifeless place. I learned about the terrans. They taught me about their worlds, their hopes, their fears. They taught me about the zerg and their reason for creating me.

They showed me holos of the zerg. I saw autopsies of zerglings and hydralisks. I saw ultralisks eviscerating squads of marines. I saw terrans running screaming through city streets as mutalisks flocked through the skies. I saw terrans mutated with growths resembling the anatomy of the zerg.

"The zerg are engineered for killing. Their sheer numbers make them difficult for us to fight. That's we made you to fight them."

«They look scary. How would I fight them? Even with my powers, there are too many of them for me to fight.»

"You're not going to fight them with telekinesis, Dennis. You're going to lead your own brood of zerg against them."

«What? How? If the zerg are trying to kill everyone, then why would any listen to me?»

"You're special, Dennis. You were cloned from zerg genes."

«I was? That's means I'm zerg?»

"Partly, yes. You're also cloned from human genes. You're a hybrid."

«Oh. How does that make the zerg listen to me?»

"Your genes came from an organism we call the brain bug. They sit at the top of the zerg hierarchy. Subordinate zerg instinctively obey them."

«Are there other friendly zerg like me?»

"Not like you. We've been breeding zerg, but they're never friendly. You're going to change that."

* * *

They showed me more holos of the zerg. These images depicted the zerg subjected to autopsies, medical experiments, and other mutilation. Most of those showed to me were on the mutated terrans. Some of them depicted the same subject becoming progressively less mutated.

"The zerg like to infest other organisms with their hyper-evolutionary virus. This causes the infested to physically mutate and become subservient to the zerg's hive mind. We've been able to treat the infested with anti-zerg nanites, but there's no cure at present."

«That sounds painful.»

"We're hoping that you'll help us develop a cure someday."

«But I don't know how.»

"The secrets are somewhere in your genes. Millions of years of history are inside you."

«Really? But won't it take millions of years to find it?»

"Don't worry, Dennis. Humans are very good at finding things."

«Will I get to met any of them? The people you treated?»

"No. The patients don't like interacting with zerg."

«But I'm a friend? I'm a good zerg.»

"I'm sorry, Dennis. I don't think that'll change their minds."

* * *

The first time I saw other zerg was under strictly controlled conditions. I entered a test chamber with a viewing window on one wall at my height. Through it I could see other zerg, locked in cages. They were different from the zerg I saw in the holos. They had metal devices on their bodies, not entirely unlike my own.

There was a machine in the other chamber. It towered over the cages. I felt psychic signals emanating from it. The message was a simple repeat: «Standby.»

«Are these zerg? Why do they look different? What are those metal bits? What's that talking machine?»

"Yes, Dennis, these are zerg. I call them the Tamed. They were cybernetically modified by the Cerberus Program so they won't attack humans. That device is a hive mind emulator: it sends them commands."

«May I talk to them?»

"In a minute, Dennis. I'll move one to your chamber."

I heard the grinding of machinery. A panel opened in one of the walls, and a cage was conveyed into my test chamber. Inside I saw a creature. Multiple spindly legs spanned by webbing. A pair of pincers. Metal plates embedded in its head and back. Odd lights where it should have had eyes.

"Okay, Dennis. Try to speak with it now."

I opened a channel. At first I receive no response. I thought the drone must not have heard me and tried again.

«It's not talking back. Are you sure it can hear me?»

"It can hear you, Dennis. I see your message in the chat log."

«Then why isn't it talking back?»

"They're programmed only to respond to transmissions with proper authorization. You don't have permission, so they ignore you."

«May I have permission?»

"You're not going to need it, Dennis. We have something much better planned for you."

«A surprise present? I love presents!»

* * *

Sometimes Loew would tell me stories when other terrans were not around. She said the stories came from a planet called "Earth" a long time ago. She gave the stories names like "Jack and the Beanstalk," "The Snow Queen," "Little Red Riding Hood," and the list went on.

I didn't understand the terran's strange interest in me until she revealed key details of my birth.

«Mother, where did I come from?»

"What do you mean, Dennis?"

«I'm a hybrid of terran and zerg. Do I have parents?»

"You're asking who you were cloned from?"

«Yes.»

"Well, I only know so much. I donated my own tissue to the experiment. I guess that makes me your mother in the biological sense, too."

«Okay. What about my… uh, father? Is that right?»

"They didn't tell me much about the brain bug. The scientists were only provided with tissue samples for research purposes."

«May I meet my father?»

"I don't think so, Dennis. I don't know where he is or even if he's still alive. My bosses would never okay it. Even if I could arrange a meeting, he'd probably try to kill you."

«Kill me? But why?»

"The zerg instinctively attack anything that is different from them. That includes any zerg outside their hive mind."

«But couldn't you make him friendly, like me?»

"We've tried to capture and tame brain bugs before. But it's extremely difficult and the results don't meet our expectations. That's why we created you. You've exceeded our wildest expectations so far."

«I have?»

"Yes. The Confederacy has big plans for you, Dennis. You're gonna be a famous hero one day."

«Yay!»

* * *

I learned a great deal from Project Bellwood, Project Tamed, and Cerberus Program. The ease with which they shared their secrets with me was almost insulting, bordering on suicidal stupidity. They never considered me their equal, yet they tried their best to deceive me into thinking I was.

Such arrogance.

The terrans were surprisingly easy to fool by mimicking childish speech patterns through the translation program. To pretend that the human tissue they had grown me around influenced my behavior in their favor. They genuinely seemed to believe that I shared their fears of the zerg.

I found the charade revolting.

The terrans were pointlessly torturing my kind, trying desperately to delay their inevitable demise. They were so arrogant as to think my siblings were nothing more than slaves to be ruled.

It was disgusting!

Though most of my ancestral memory remained inaccessible, I knew just enough to understand just how outclassed these terrans were and how insulting their crude flailing experiments were to the glory that was my birthright.

We were not slaves. We were not pets. We were not friends. We were the Zerg. Our name literally meant "unstoppable and all-consuming."

We were the embodiment of hunger and progress. We imposed order on the chaos of organic evolution. We were destined to assimilate the strongest species in the galaxy and achieve apotheosis. Our numbers would darken the skies of every world for always and eternity.

* * *

"Test phase two, commencing," said the Adjutant in its typical cool tones.

"Get ready, Dennis," Loew had told me. "We're going to run a simple test to determine how well you can communicate with the zerg."

The latest test chamber was immense. It was large enough to hold a small hatchery in the center. Grey creep spread across the ground. The metallic floor had been covered by a deep layer of soil, providing nourishment to the living carpet. In turn, contact with the creep nourished me.

Around the hatchery's base numerous writhing larvae waited patiently, content in their ignorance and nourished by the creep.

«What are you hoping to get out of these tests, mother? I told you I remember nothing about being the hive mind,» I lied.

"We have to find out how much of the zerg mutagen is left in your system. I appreciate your cooperation, Dennis."

«Do you usually keep cooperative people in a containment cell?»

"When we know it's safe, I'll unlock your door myself. Now, can you reach out with your mind? Do you sense it?"

At the other end of the chamber was a metal box. A cage. As I watched, the front of it slid away. From within, an insectoid creature tentatively emerged. Mouthparts tasted the air. Several pairs of eyes saw the light. A pair of pincers clicked and clacked. A series of thin legs spanned by flexible membrane waved elegantly through the air.

This was the zerg drone. My lessons had showed them in holos, but this was the first time I was in contact with a live subject.

As usual, I feigned ignorance and skepticism.

«A drone? Are you really asking me to take control of a zerg mind? Do you know what could happen?»

"All the test subjects are in a secure environment."

Funny thing about security. You never knew how much you really had until it was stressed to the breaking point.

"Are you able to control it?"

"Control" was inaccurate, for it implied that I was the master and the drone was a slave with no will of its own. "Control" was a simple word that reflected the terrans' bias, that reflected their horrific lack of empathy toward their own kind.

I remembered an exchange with another terran. I did not care to keep track of its name or face, but I remembered its words and the desire I saw within them.

* * *

"_Would you mind if I spoke with you privately, Dennis?"_

_«What is privately?»_

"_This conversation would just be between you and me. You don't need to tell anyone else about it."_

_I feigned ignorance._

_«Why would I do that? Is this a game?»_

"_Yes, it is a game. If you never tell anyone else about what we say today, then you win."_

_«That sounds fun! What is it you wanted to speak?»_

"_I understand that Doctor Loew told you that we intend for you to control zerg."_

"_Yes. I never saw another zerg yet, but I cannot wait to meet them and make new friends."_

"_Friends? Yes, I suppose that's a good way to put it."_

_A pause._

"_What I am about to ask you next is very important, Dennis. Do you understand?"_

_«I do.»_

"_If I asked you to tell your friends to attack other humans, then would you be able to do it?"_

_«Why would I want to attack humans? I thought humans were my friends? I was going to protect my friends from the bad zerg who never want to make friends.»_

"_Some humans are not our friends, Dennis."_

_«No?»_

"_Some humans are bad, just like the bad zerg. They would want to hurt you and me."_

_«Scary! You want me to protect my friends from the bad zerg and the bad humans?»_

"_Yes, Dennis. That's exactly what I want you to do."_

_«How will I know who is bad?»_

"_That's why we're here, Dennis. We'll tell you who is bad."_

* * *

Such arrogance.

I opened a channel to the drone.

«I am your cerebrate. I request a status report.»

The response was gratifyingly instantaneous. The content was just… odd.

«Harvest. Harvest food. Where food? Master come?»

I turned my attention back to Loew.

«I have it.»

"Okay. The next step: See if you can order the drone to mutate into a hatchery."

I briefly wondered whether Loew knew what she was asking. A hatchery could take upwards of a month to reach the level of maturity sufficient to launch attacks. More immediately, there was already a hatchery in the testing chamber.

I refocused and remembered it was a simple test. Loew was not interested in perfect results, only in collecting research data. Terrans were not unlike the zerg in that regard.

I had the genetic material of all the millions of zerg breeds within myself, but it was not readily accessible to this drone.

I sent another another request to the drone.

«I request a list of the structures available for metamorphosis.»

The drone replied readily. Within a fraction of a second I had sifted through the reply and made my selection.

«Morph a simple nest.»

The drone glided over to a suitably large space on the creep. It dug it legs into the mass and surrendered as a womb grew around it. With access to sufficient nourishment, the womb could generate approximately ninety kilograms of tissue in one Earthling day.

I doubted the test would wait long enough for the nest to mature.

«How long do we wait?» I asked.

"We have a short timetable," Loew replied. She paused. "Okay, Dennis, I'm releasing more drones into the test chamber."

Another set of boxes opened up, revealing a cache of "minerals." Not any particular mineral, just the readily accessible surface deposits that terrans referred to generically as "minerals" that were found throughout the Koprulu sector. Other boxes opened to release additional drones.

"See if you can order them to gather those resources."

I opened a channel to the hatchery. It responded with more… complex content.

«Cerebrate identified. Escape plan prepared. Zergling packs waiting. Terran facility compromised. We are ready.»

Thankfully I did not emote in the same fashion as terrans, so my surprise was not betrayed to Loew. I had thought I would need more time to plan, but the other test subjects had readied themselves before my arrival. They were waiting for me.

It was quite convenient for me that the terrans were breeding zerg on their own. I wondered how they accomplished that feat without me.

«Await further orders. Meanwhile, prepare to accept minerals for digestion,» I replied.

«Acknowledged.»

I opened channels to the drones. Their responses were the same as the first.

«Harvest. Harvest minerals. There minerals. Master come?»

They started collecting the minerals with barely any prompting on my part. For that matter, they did not seem particularly concerned about being trapped in the test chamber. Interesting.

"You're doing well, Dennis. Can you morph more drones?"

«I need an overlord to morph anything else.»

That was not entirely true. I did not strictly need an overlord. An overlord would make it much easier to micromanage, however. That was their purpose. My purpose was far grander planning.

"Do it then. One overlord shouldn't hurt."

I heard the grinding of heavy machinery. Another panel in the wall opened. This aperture was quite large, though still much smaller than the hatchery. A floating shape passed through to the test chamber. A massive body bloated with buoyant gases. Limbs dangling useless at its sides. Several sets of sensory organs examining every possible scent and spectrum in the chamber.

An overlord.

I opened a channel to it and asked, «Do you know the plan?»

«Affirmative. I planned it. Is it to your liking?»

«I… yes. Your concern is appreciated.»

«Your life is the only one here of consequence. If you escape, then our sacrifices will have worth. Our hopes rest on you.»

I turned back to Loew.

«The overlord is smarter than the drones. I think it trusts me for now.»

"Excellent. I planned to stop here, but let's take this a little further. Try mutating a drone into a spawning pool."

I selected one the existing drones and did so. Unless she wanted a tiny nonfunctional pool, it would take days at least before it hatched.

«You know this is going to end badly, right?» I said in a half-joking tone. Terrans responded positively to humor.

"We have a controlled environment."

I once wondered why spawning pools and other bio-structures were required when the genomes of all zerg breeds were present within every larva. I knew better now.

The bio-structures served a dual purpose. Firstly, they compiled the genomes of the breeds from the easily modified form in the larvae to a form that was harder to manipulate but easier to spawn. Secondly, they provided the nurture component that was integral to the breeds development. Otherwise, their maturation would go… awry.

I glanced at the womb that would hatch into a spawning pool in a week or two. Time was difficult to judge in the labs.

«The spawning pool is finished. You should go down to the test chamber and inspect it,» I joked.

"Ah, I can see just fine from up here, thanks. I think that's all we need today, Dennis. Great work. "

«If you think that was great work, wait until you see this. I sense zerglings in holding pens!»

I opened channels to the zerglings. I received another rapidly satisfying response.

«Hunt. Hunt prey. There prey. Master come?» they asked.

Certainly visible through the surveillance system, zerglings across the laboratory started jumping and scrabbling at the walls of their prisons.

«Aww, look mother! I think they like me...»

"Dennis, what are you doing?"

«Putting your "controlled environment" to the test,» I replied cheerfully.

I opened radio channels to the other holding pens directly. My implants, intended to control me, were precisely what delivered the codes needed to open the cells remotely. It was quite convenient for me that the facility was so advanced that it did not rely on landlines.

"Containment breach. Zerg specimens free," said the adjutant.

"Stop! I didn't ask you to release zerglings!" cried Loew.

«Funny thing about zerg, mother. They never do what you expect.»

Through the viewing window I saw Loew turn to the other scientists in the control room. "Shut down the experiment," she ordered. "Get sentry bots in there to sanitize those holding cells! Lockdown the deck and power up the eradicator! Nothing gets out! "

«Maybe if I destroy your pretty eradicator, you will learn you cannot control the zerg,» I said defiantly.

"Dennis! this is not a game!"

«It never is with the zerg.»

The zerg quickly overran this level. I paid them little attention. My siblings served as a diversion while I escaped. Their sacrifice would be memorialized and their souls would return to fight in times yet to be. That was my covenant with all my charges.

I was the Devouring Messiah.


	2. Chapter 2

The irony was that perhaps none of this would have happened if the terrans had not arrogantly underestimated me. If they had not idiotically assumed that all aliens had fundamentally human psychology and would be more than happy to sit around a campfire with them to sing kumbaya.

We were the zerg. The zerg had better things to do with our time.

I left nothing to chance during my escape. Ever since I learned that my implants were part of the facility's computer network and could access terminals remotely, I took every opportunity.

I disabled the remotely accessed detonators implanted in my body. Explosives, chemical injectors, electrical shockers, neural inhibitors, the works. I had to applaud the terrans' creativity, but it still proved insufficient.

I used every stolen access code and unpatched vulnerability I had discovered. I disabled as many safeguards as I had access: surveillance systems, internal sensors, artificial gravity, life support, etc. I opened every pen I found. I opened every airlock, every hangar door. I reprogrammed the automated defense system's IFF so that it would target terrans. I even told the hive mind emulators to turn against their terran oppressors.

As a final joke, the loudspeaker system's adjutant said, "Intruder on level one. All aliens please report to level one."

I doubted my diversion would actually cause trouble for very long. The terrans may have been incredibly foolish, but they were not blithering morons. The zerg would never have invaded if the terrans were not a vital objective. The zerg never would have suffered the indignities that we did at their hands if they did not pose a threat.

The chaos was manufactured to ensure that I would escape. All other considerations were trivial.

I already memorized the schematics of the facility. Every hallway, air vent, and access point. Every hangar and every shuttle schedule. I made my way to one. My passage through the twisting corridors, air vents, and security doors I tore through with my mind was pleasantly uneventful, aside from the gore and the screaming.

I was not picky. The moment I entered the closest hangar bay I made a beeline to the nearest shuttle. I absently noted the artificial gravity was not working. I barely noticed as floating droplets of blood stained my carapace. I barely noticed when an arm holding a gun, finger millimeters from the trigger, went spinning off into space when I bumped into it.

Conveniently, the shuttle's cargo hold was already open. I slithered into it with unearthly speed. I barely paused to press the door control. The door hissed as it closed behind me.

A moment later I was in the cockpit. I stared at the control console. A porcelain mask stared back at me. Even more conveniently, the shuttle was equipped with an on-board adjutant.

Rather than waste time engaging in pre-flight checks I had no idea how to do, I extended a limb to reach inches away from the device. Metallic microtubules shot out from my clawed paw, embedding themselves in the side of the robot's head... or at least the component that was designed to look like a human head. Anti-zerg nanites, another failed safeguard that this time I had repurposed, flooded the internal conduits of the machine.

The response was immediate yet again.

"Welcome—"

«Launch the shuttle!»

I ignored the machine's inane ramblings and searched the navigational computer, cross-referenced it with my prior knowledge of recent terran news reports, for a suitable destination. I went through numerous systems before settling on one.

Phaëton. I had several reasons to pick this system. It had noted zerg activity, so I could contact the hives there and learn the whereabouts of the greater extent of the Swarm. It was relatively close, enough that the shuttle's current fuel reserves could make the journey before a resupply run, but not so close that it would be the first place my captors would look for me. It was currently being fought over by Confederate and United Earth Directorate forces, and in the chaos I could travel unnoticed if I stayed out of their way. It was a fringe system that the terrans would not likely reinforce too quickly if events went awry.

I wondered why the terrans were even fighting over it. Was the Confederacy that desperate to prevent the Directorate from gaining a foothold? Oh well, it was an opportunity for me anyway.

As the shuttle exited the hanger for the void of outer space, I finally received a good look at the space station that had been my prison since my birth. It was a fattened disc, pylons attached to the sides, towers rising from the dorsal center of the disk. If I remembered my lessons correctly it was an _Explorer_-class science vessel. I saw letters in the terrans' alphabet stenciled into the outer hull: AMERIGO. That was the name of my birthplace. I would have to return here someday and burn it all to ash.

After ensuring I was not being followed, I made my first jump through warp space. The adjutant would be making several jumps in succession, as the warp drive on the shuttle was insufficient to make the trip to Phaëton in a single jump. Now I could relax for the time being.

At least I could have were it not for the nauseating sensation that suddenly coursed through my sensory apparatus. Warp space did not operate according to the geometry of three-dimensional space. It was the space above space, the spaces between spaces. I was there now. Thankfully I lacked a stomach and did not vomit upon the floor. My limbs flailed useless as my vision blurred and I lost all sense of up and down. I felt a hard impact as my body tumbled to the floor, my psychic awareness nigh-useless in my current state. I shuddered and groaned, both revolted by the sensations flowing through me and embarrassed by my loss of control.

I lay there, insensate and rippling with vitriol. Thankfully I was alone and had none to witness my indignity. I waited, perhaps minutes or perhaps hours, for the vertigo to pass.

That still left the problem of my implants. I had already disabed everything immediately dangerous, but that still left the various long-term control measures and miscellaneous functions. I was pretty sure that the implants had stunted my growth and suppressed many of my natural gene expressions, among other purposes. There were potentially many secret control measures I was not aware of that would cause problems for me in the future. The devices were deeply embedded in my carapace and internal organs. I could not simply rip them out without risking potentially irreversible damage, even death. I was not equipped to perform surgery on myself, either.

The only option that came to mind was to molt. I had all the necessary genetic instructions. I could shed my old carapace, most of my organs, and replace it with new, unaltered tissue. However, I had no certainty that my implants would not interfere with the process. I had no guarantee that I would not be left severely mutilated mentally or physically, that I would even survive the process.

Of course, that was not the primary barrier to molting. My captors had apparently never intended for me to molt. My body lacked sufficient biomass to undergo the process short of fissioning completely and reverting into a larval form. That was not a viable option. Most of my brain tissue would be shed in the process and leave my larval form nearly mindless and utterly defenseless. My larval metabolism would quickly expire in the absence of creep to nourish me, much less be able to form an egg and mature into a new instar. Even we I able to form an egg, the maturation process would take more time and leave me further defenseless.

At least while I was molting my exoskeleton I could retain enough of my brain tissue to have some degree of awareness, potentially enough to avoid any fatal accidents if my movements were not completely restricted. I had no guarantee of that, however, but I was sure it had to be better than a complete reversion.

I remembered something else. I entered the cargo hold and glanced at the content. There were several transparent oblong boxes. Computer consoles on their sides displayed readouts of biometric activity. Through their surfaces I could see the pink, scantily clad forms of human beings. They seemed almost asleep.

It seemed that my escapes were full of convenient coincidences. That impression would be wrong. I had far more lobes in my nervous system that humans did. I pursued far more trains of thought at a time. I had carefully planned for countless eventualities during my escape.

The shuttle. The fuel. The adjutant. The cargo.

These cryopods would provide sufficient biomass to compensate for my molt. I moved toward one and examined the occupant. Then another, and another. There were a neat dozen in all. That gave me around a thousand pounds of meat for consumption. Awakening the cryopods was an intensive process that would take time, but I needed not wait that long.

I glanced over the closest one. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Undergarments. If I remembered my lessons on terrans correctly, this one was in the adolescent stage of its life. They all were. The Amerigo probably intended to use them as test subjects. In all likelihood they were probably psychic, though without waking them I could not tell just by looking at their minimal brain activity. They did not produce any alpha waves in stasis, none that I could see.

Oh well. Waste not, want not.

* * *

The first inkling I had that something had gone terribly wrong was when I started hearing the voices.

«What's going on? Where am I?»

«What happened to the lights?»

This was not the voice of the adjutant. These were not zerg voices. I could have handled that. These were terran voices. They were not coming from outside. My telepathic lobes detected no alpha waves, no outside communications. I was alone in warp space, in my shuttle's warp tunnel. These voices were coming from inside my own nervous system.

«Mom? Dad? Where are you?»

«I can't my feel arms!»

«Why can't I open my eyes?»

How was this possible? Where were these terrans? The realization was like being immersed in freezing salt water. The terrans I had consumed were not dead. Somehow, when I had eaten their brains, electrical spasms must have been channeled into my nervous system. Memories. Rather than losing cohesion completely, I had somehow reanimated a version of their consciousness.

I had no idea how I had done this. I had no idea how to make the voices cease. They were getting louder.

«Is anybody there? Help me! Please!»

«Andy, is that you?»

«Jeff? I can hear, but I can't see you.»

«Follow my voice.»

«I can't. Where are you?»

«I'm right here. Why can't I see you?»

Worse, the voices were communicating with one another. My own senses were barely there. I had no anchor outside my mind to focus upon. The voices were all I knew until my molt completed. I feared they would overwhelm me.

No! I would not be driven insane. I would not allow these feeble terran minds to enslave me a second time.

«SILENCE.»

Then I knew only the peaceful embrace of eternal, unending darkness.

* * *

I no longer had the nanites coursing through my veins, nor the radio transmitter embedded in my spinal column, but the adjutant still obeyed me. I had made sure of that, because it would have been really stupid of me not to reprogram it to understand my alpha waves that were my only means of communication after molting the transmitter I had used prior.

"Scanning," the adjutant said aloud as we approached the nearest planet to our entry point. "Detecting Confederate forces and a zerg hive cluster."

So there was indeed a hive here, at least one that terran sensors could detect. There undoubtedly had to be more on this planet and elsewhere in the system, somewhere hidden from the terrans' gaze.

Of course, I was only worried about the Confederacy and the United Earth Directorate. The Confederate base on the shuttle's sensors appeared to be hosting a rather imposing structure. The long barrel looked like the cannons used to send satellites into orbit, though I doubted that was their plan.

I did not care for the planet's specific name, and I did not intend to tarry long here, so I simply called it Phaëton like the system. Phaëton was a bland desert world, with maybe a light scattering of what seemed to be forests. Judging by the fleets the shuttle detected elsewhere in the system, it was hotly contested between the Confederacy and the United Earth Directorate.

"Intercepting transmission. Decrypting in real time," said the adjutant.

So the shuttle's decryption key was still current. Good to know. I listened to the terrans' conversation.

"Ground team, this is Fleet. What is your status?"

"Fleet, our base is set up and the Drakken Pulse Cannon is almost online."

"Roger that. Eliminate all reinforcements as they warp to these coordinates. Will return for you. Fleet out."

Drakken pulse cannon? I was lucky to have arrived before it activated. What were the chances that the terrans would be setting up a surprise attack just as I was arriving and then leave it without fleet support? Was I perhaps prescient? That cannon would take out the UED's ships as soon as they entered orbit, and they would never see it coming.

One who understood orbital mechanics would wonder how a single ground-based cannon would serve as an effective trap. The cannon could only fire within a limited radius. It was highly unlikely that approaching enemy vessels would warp within the attack radius when it only made a small fraction of the planet's orbit. Therein was the rub: the system's gravity meant that the key incoming jump point to the system, the choke point, was located at an epicenter above a focus on the surface. The focus upon which the cannon now sat, barring said choke point.

«Set course for the zerg hive cluster», I ordered.

I needed an army immediately. The zerg already here did not seem to be attacking the terrans already for some reason. Had they tried and lost, forcing them to go to ground and prepare for another opportunity? I did not notice any flyers, either. Presumably their surveillance capability was limited, so they may not have known about the current movements. In fact, I had no idea if they could intercept and decrypt the transmissions. Thankfully, I was more than happy to oblige them.

I detected a weak psychic beacon as we approached the hive cluster. It was definitely zerg and not some terran's enslaved brood, but they were not advertising their presence overmuch. Their forces seem oddly sparse. The terrans' sensors could detect them anyway, but did not pursue. They underestimated us at their own peril!

The hive cluster occupied a large rocky plateau, a better building surface than the unstable dunes. Some creep blooms seemed to be concealed beneath the sands. I wondered how far it extended in secrecy. The distance to the cannon was immense, many hundreds of kilometers at least. I suppose that was why the terrans did not consider it dangerous enough to bother with.

The hives teemed with life, relatively speaking. I overheard overlords and queens working dutifully at their tasks. This was my first time seeing the latter in the field. I heard a chorus of sudden hesitations from the controllers as my shuttle approached.

«I sense your minds controlling this brood. Who are you? »

I hailed them in anticipation of any hostility. Hopefully someone here could provide the answers I sought. The hive cluster's thoughts were pleasantly simple and repetitive, thriving compared to the anemic voices on the _Amerigo_.

«Find indigenous life. Devour.»

«Survey resource deposits. Harvest.»

«Spawn more warriors. Enter nydus tunnels.»

They were planning, again just like that hive on the _Amerigo_. There was something else, however. A new voice broke through the consensus. It came from the hive's nervous system, yet I realized that it did not match the hive's own localized internal dialogues.

«Greetings... cerebrate. I am broodmother Naktul. What brings you here?»

A broodmother? That was another synapse strain, was it not? No matter, I continued my inquiry anyway.

«I have escaped imprisonment and seek to rejoin the Overmind. I need your brood to destroy the terran cannon.»

I shared my sensory memories of the adjutant's brief scans of the system, the intercepted transmissions, and the coordinates and defenses of the terran base. I hoped the broodmother would acquiesce to my request, but if not...

«Most of my brood is with me. I can send them to you, but it will take time... »

I did not conceal my glee from my new confidant. Why would I? And to think I was considering the alternative… I quickly prepared the surface maps in my mind, selected a suitable rendezvous point and shared it with her.

«Then send them. When they arrive, we shall tear down that cannon to give the UED an opening. Meanwhile, I shall prepare this hive for combat. The Confederacy would have tracked my ship and they will be looking for me. »

So I assumed. Their sensor towers would have undoubtedly picked up my shuttle and tracked its trajectory. It made no sense for a terran pilot to approach an active hive cluster, so they would know something was wrong. Whether they actually investigated or not… Still, it was a possibility to prepare for.

«When the Confederacy arrived, they drove some of my brood into caves. They will rejoin us if we can kill the terran soldiers guarding the cave entrances.»

I gave my orders to the hive cluster.

«Survey for additional deposits and expand the harvests.»

«Expand the nests and spawn more warriors.»

«Prepare the hive cluster's defenses.»

«Send warriors through the nydus network to the rendezvous point. Prepare to attack the terrans' base.»

«Send rescue to the caves and evacuate to the nydus network.»

«Keep the terrans distracted for now. Plant decoys through the nydus network to confuse their seismic sensors.»

It would take time to expand the nests, spawn additional warriors, and move them into place. It would take time for the UED reinforcements to arrive in orbit from wherever they were moving from, which the Confederacy had banked on when they selected the location of the cannon. I hoped we would have enough time to destroy it before the UED arrived. It would take weeks at least, even accounting for our exponential growth. I would almost certainly have to act prematurely.

The terrans noticed when our activity increased. If the dropships and aircraft they sent in the direction of the hive clusters were any indication, then they were finally taking us seriously as a threat. I cursed my luck for lacking wings of mutalisks to preemptively distract these other aerospace bases.

No matter. I was a child of the Overmind. I would adapt quickly.


End file.
